The Edge
by lottieland
Summary: With all the information we have on the world of Harry Potter, you would think we would have more information on the founders of Hogwarts. But there is still very little known about them. This is my take on the mystery surrounding the death and betrayal of Rowena Ravenclaw.
1. Endangerment

**Hi guys!**

**I felt like doing something I have never personally done before, or seen anywhere else. So, this is the first installment of my attempt at an explanation to the mystery surrounding Rowena Ravenclaw's death.**

**It follows canon information, you can check it all out. But obviously since not much is known about her, I have taken artistic liberties when needed.**

**Hope you enjoy, and tell me what you think...**

**Lottie xx**

**Disclaimer: All rights go to J.K. Rowling. I could only ever dream of even being even half the writer is.**

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It is dark.

Such a simple sentence, but none the less true.

All around, stretching as far as my eye can see, darkness surrounds my being.

There are many degrees and variations of 'darkness'. The type the mind immediately jumps to are the shadows of nightfall. Snuffing out your candle at the end of the day, and being greeted by the black that follows. This is what most people consider dark, to the highest level they can perceive.

However the enlightened among us, and this is a select few, can imagine another level. A higher level, if you wish, that the majority simply cannot conceive. Their minds are not open to expansion, unlike my precious students, and therefore the concept of a pure darkness is not able to be imagined. I say this at the risk of sounding conceited, but if I did not I would not be truthful.

It is an odd concept, if you mull over it, to see nothing. For surely you are viewing something, as there is no such thing as empty space in the world as we know it. However, this is what I see, and I consider that to lie is a sin. Not that I believe in a God to punish such an action, but I believe there are more ingenious ways to avoid the truth, like deception, or withholding of certain information imperative to understanding the full truth of a situation.

The purity of nothingness around me is a god-send. To feel nothing is an unusual experience, as logic dictates that a person must always be feeling something to be alive and well. I feel as if I am neither of these, but as I do not feel, so how can this be? The paradoxical conundrum boggles even the sharpest of minds. And this describes the obscurity encompassing me.

Total confusion of feelings that should not be.

And confusion is not a state I am familiar with, or comfortable with being.

I must not overthink this contradictory situation, as I fear I may lose my wits and thought process. I pride myself on my ingenuity. And, of course, I cannot forget the lights.

Ahh, the lights. The beautifully terrifying lights.

They demand my immediate attention, and I must give it in its entirety.

Within said darkness, flashes of nothingness dominate my vision. These are the lights. At first I thought them to be something from the skies, or beyond, but then I dismissed my idiotic ideas. It is not often I am wrong, but everyone is once in a while. That thought was but an anomaly.

These lights are more than simple candlelight, they are more like… lightning. Yes, lightning from dark clouds, the brightness is almost unbelievable. They almost seem to have a life of their own.

They blind me, they mislead, and they deceive. Well, they attempt at deceit, yet I know they lie.

They must be sentient to be able to tell what I know to be untruths, but as I am feeling particularly philosophical this night, how can something without a physical presence hold sentient? And we come back to the fact that feelings are holding us back. We must be freed from their constraints, and to do as such, we must have no physical presence, like my lights.

With so much confusion in my world, I yearn for the feeling of nonentity. I feel like it would come as a relief, for if I feel nothing, then I am nothing and I cannot feel, which is what I despise. The lights hold the answers, but again my humanity holds me back.

I yearn to join them, yet I am scared.

I, well, the survival instincts inside me, want every feeling that I could possibly feel. I know my physical body restrains me, but I cannot bring myself to rid of it. It is ironic, as to free myself I need no feeling, but to achieve such an end, I need to have no feeling in the first place, therefore, I enter an endless loop of which I have no escape. There it is again, that unwelcome emotion. Confusion.

I work tirelessly, searching desperately for an answer. And what answer my brain has apparently given me is to come here. Human-kind is such a mystery to me. I am but a mystery to myself, but I still strive for answers.

Yet still I find myself stood at the edge. Staring into the endless abyss, I am anxious to kiss the rocks below. To end the feeling, no more, I say, no more.

But a part of me knows I cannot do it, that I cannot leave her behind. Sentient overtakes desire once more.

A larger voice is once again shouting that this is what I want, that my daughter's betrayal is too much to bear.

And who am I to argue?

_Come, young one. Come to us._

All I can do is nod in agreement.

When a baby is born, it is a beginning.

A clean slate for them to ruin as they please.

I too desire for a new beginning, but also an end to the cycle. Therefore I am going out of this world the way I came in, exposed from head to toe. It makes sense, to exit the same way you entered.

It only seems proper to do this right.

After all, the lights demand it.

Ice cold pin pricks make their way up my arms, alerting me to the cool off shore winds that are slowly turning my hands and feet numb. And just in time too. I want to be unfeeling, to not bare this pain of the deceit.

There are the feelings again. Pesky things, really.

I cannot wait to be rid of them.

Sharp pains of small rocks sting my feet as I inch closer and closer to my fate, but with this newfound numbness, I barely feel them. I welcome the small pains, knowing that they will be gone shortly. Feet bare, my toes curl around the edge.

"Rowena!"

Shaking my head against the unwelcome voice echoing in my mind, I raise my arms above my head, preparing to take the one final step that will seal my fate.

"No, stop!"

Wait, the voices, they've escaped!

"Stay there, I'm coming to get you!"

They're real! No, this cannot be! I must do it quickly, otherwise they'll stop me from achieving my goal…

No, no you're not. You are not real, voices. You're in my head, you cannot do anything.

And you cannot stop me.

One leg is suspended over the edge. I already feel so much more freedom.

Hands grasp my exposed upper arms, yanking me away from the precarious edge. No, they can't have done that, it is impossible. They can't, it's not…

Impossible…

No…

Never will they stop me…

Never…

I reach instinctively for my treasure in its rightful place, balanced carefully upon the top of my head. I panic when I find it absent. How can that be? It is always there… Only, it isn't…

Helena, how could you…

My own daughter…

Sounds pierce my daze, interrupting my thoughts of the treachery that has befallen me. Why is there so much noise? Who's shrieking? What's happened? Is someone hurt? The screams are frantic…

It takes me a moment to realise that the cries are coming from me.

I feel trapped. Someone is whispering to me, but I can make no sense of their words. Everything is alien to me. Feelings are what should have escaped, but instead my intelligence seems to have gone. What I pride above everything else has been taken from me.

I scream louder.

No words, no language registers any significance. They're just sounds to me. No meaning.

I need to be free from the encasement of arms around me. I claw at my captor, the ground, my head, anything to get away.

"Rowena, halt your movements, immediately. You're acting rashly." A stern voice interrupts my tirade of madness, a shock to my system. I momentarily pause at the abrupt tone and the fact that I understood, but soon begin to struggle once more.

"Salazar, that tone will not help bring her back to her senses," scolded a second voice, this one softer than the first, more comforting. "She's in a state, can't you see?" A sigh followed, "You know what we must do."

The first voice grunted in response, "Godric doesn't even know…"

"Godric does understand, and he can help, just as he did last time. Can't you just forget these spats of late for the sake, and quite possibly the life, of your friend?"

Silence followed the question. Then, a breath,

"For Rowena, I can."

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**Hope that wasn't too confusing! It was meant to be a bit scattered, but if anyone is confused, please let me know. And if anyone enjoyed it too, please let me know!**


	2. Discussions

**Instalment 2 here. **

**Again, enjoy!**

**Lottie xx **

**Disclaimer: If you really think I'm J.K. Rowling I am extremely flattered. But no. Not even close. Sorry!**

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"I propose we tell her."

"I believe it is best not to."

"She already knows the object is gone; to be considered missing. I say; we confirm this for her and move forward to a point where we search for the blasted thing and track it down, or simply accept that it is lost."

"But she is extremely fragile at this current moment in time, _Slytherin_, and I fear the confirmation of what she fears may be too much for her to bear."

"Salazar, I believe Godric to be right. As much as I despise withholding information from her, it will only make the… incidences… worse. You saw as well as I did the sense leave her, blankness in its place. And we certainly cannot have the students starting to suspect weaknesses, otherwise they will fear that they are not as secure here as promised, and word may get out…"

"Yes, yes. I understand. With Helena gone…"

"Do NOT speak her name. You know it is a trigger for her, and for all we know, she may be able to hear us."

"I apologise Helga, but perhaps it is best to move this conversation elsewhere so as to stop _certain people_ from overhearing. _Gryffindor_, as much as everything burgundy and gold causes me to break out in cold sweats, may we use your quarters?"

"I suppose it is closer than the dungeons."

"I would advise you to refrain from referring to my underground rooms as such places for torture before I…"

"Salazar, Godric, stop! Now is not the time for one of your petty rows. You should both be ashamed. We need to decide what it is best to inform Rowena of, and quickly. We all know that she is not obtuse, she will catch on to a half-made tale in an instant. But we can hardly tell her everything."

"You are right, Helga, and I am sorry."

"Humph."

"Anyways, let us move this discussion to a more private setting. Godric, will you lead the way?"

"Of course Helga. Now, if you will just follow on behind me…"

"He thinks he's _so_ pretentious…"

"_Salazar!_"

"I shall just not speak then. As my mother always said, if you have nothing nice to say, think it forcefully instead."

_Sigh._

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**Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


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